


Thoughts Alone Can Kill

by thezestycadenski



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Other, Recovery, Relapsing, Rubberbang - Freeform, Self-Harm, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezestycadenski/pseuds/thezestycadenski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m just… Scared. Really fucking scared...</p><p>Don’t lie. You deserve it. You'll smile and pretend the way you do and won't show anyone. I'll go on without you. Move onto someone else. Destroy them too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts Alone Can Kill

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at 2 am last night. It was supposed to be short. Also, a oneshot. Buuuut what're ya gonna do? I dunno why this was a good idea but meh. I love you guys btw! <3 also this; http://illbebusyburninginhell.tumblr.com/ is my 'fanfic' hole. So, you can read it there or here! (The ones on my Tumblr will be different to the ones here though, alternate endings and the such like will be on Tumblr)  
> Laff yew!
> 
> No, but seriously. Y'all are amazing c':

_“I’m just… Scared. Really fucking scared… Of myself.”_

**_Don’t lie. You’re scared of me. You deserve it. You'll smile and pretend the way you do and won't show anyone. I'll go on without you. Move onto someone else. Destroy them too._ **

 

It had been this way for awhile now. This sickness in his head. It wasn't his fault. But he believed it was. It wasn't fair on any of them, really. It was only because of that one stupid phrase that people use every day to sum up their temporary ill will, to let out all of their fears, to spit in the faces of others when they’re so mad that they can’t see straight and words pour out of their mouths that they regret later, in the darkness, alone.

“I fucking _hate_ you.”

It wasn't intentional, of course not. It never is. It just sort of… slipped out in the heat of the moment. But as soon as the words left Ross’ mouth from his muddled, alcohol soaked mind, he knew he’d fucked up, knew by the grimace on Danny’s face that quickly shifted to blankness that he’d really well and truly fucked up.

“No! I-I didn't mean that!”  He says, his eyes wide, pleading. Danny’s gaze on him was razor sharp.

“Of course not.” He replies softly. It’s not the usual stage anger they’re all used to. This is menacing It’s like his higher functions of emotions have shut down, leaving him cold, callous and blank.

“I mean it, Dan.” Ross steps forward and flinches when Dan moves away, his hands clenching. “I was trying to help you, Ross. You obviously don’t want that.”

“Please… Don’t go.” Ross’ eyes film over, he feels his chin quiver. _Shit. **Don’t cry now, you fucking loser.** Don’t... **He’ll hate you for it.** Please. **Who are you kidding? He does already.**_ _No!_

Dan just shrugs, walking out and slamming the door behind him. Ross hears Arin start speaking before Dan cuts him off.

“I’m going out, I don’t know when I’ll be back. Bye.”

The sentence is rushed, not just emotionless but urgent, full of pressure. It leaves Ross with an empty feeling in his stomach, clawing at him like he hasn't eaten for days. How ironic is that? Because he hasn't. Hasn't eaten for at least a week, unable to see food without wanting to vomit. His only nourishment; alcohol. To stop the thoughts buzzing in his head. He lifts his eyes from the carpet as the door creaks open. It’s Arin. A frown on his face and his hands splayed out in front of him, like Ross is a wild animal that he’s trying to tame.

“What happened?” He asks, never one to hide behind sentiments.

Ross shrugs. “I…” He trails off with a sigh, the room spinning around him as the pain in his stomach blooms into being.

It’s all just way too fucking complicated.

First, there was the tentative questioning. The probing at the edges of his fidgeting, his nervous behaviour, his indescribable ability to seem happy and sad at the same time. Then, once Dan had come to his own conclusion, pressure to go see a therapist. He’d fought it with all his might but Dan just wouldn't give up. He didn't _get it_. It was more than just this shitty all consuming self-hatred induced anxiety that plagued him every day…

If Arin had found out, told him to go, he would have gone. Gotten help. Left for as long as he’d needed. Fixed himself. But this was Dan. Ross just couldn't do it. Couldn't face him when he had that sad look in his eyes that said he knew. Couldn't comprehend how concerned he was. Couldn't handle it when Dan wouldn't leave him alone for one single second.

It was fucking _complicated_.

And that’s when the fighting started… All because of his shitty attitude. His stupid inability to get over himself. All that ended up happening was frosty stares tinged with silent anger whenever they ended up fighting over it. It was all too much for Ross and it had spilled out of him like water out of a dam. He started drinking heavily. Just to forget his feelings for awhile. It didn't work.

Arin’s moving towards Ross as the world tilts around him, as the floor leaves his vision and the ceiling enters it, his vision fading as the pain blooms to the other parts of his body.

_Hands on his shoulders._

_Yelling, pleading, then, silence interspersed with sudden sobs._

_Droplets of water breaking against his cheeks._

_Hair tickling his neck._

_Hands holding his limp ones._

Ross feels like his body is being dragged under water. His limbs are heavy and he has a hard time thinking. He’s drowning and the only one who can save him, wanted to save him, is gone. He left and it’s all Ross’ fault.

He feels, faintly, tears trail heat down his cheeks and wonders why his eyes are betraying him like this. He’s staring blankly at Arin, who’s crying too. Crying for him.

_**You don’t deserve his tears.** Shut… Up…_

Even thinking, fighting his own mind, winning against the self-hatred and booze is hard. So _so_ hard.

_**You’re worthless, pathetic. A waste of space.** No… **Dan was right to leave you.**  No… No!  **Yes. You’re not worth his time.**_ _He wants to save me! **Bullshit. You only think he wants to. You want to be saved. But no one will save you. You’re not worth saving.**_

Ross shifts as Arin clings to him, unable to do anything other than sob. _I’ll save myself…_ He pushes himself up, a determined look in his eyes, legs shaking as he stands. Arin stands with him, grabbing his arm and holding him up as he stumbles.

“Arin?” He says quietly, wiping a trembling hand over his face. “Yeah?” Arin’s staring at him worriedly, his lip between his teeth, biting down hard. He sees Arin’s face twist and knows he’s trying to stop crying. “I need food. Something starchy.” Ross tilts his head, gazing sidelong at his friend, feeling his quick breaths rattle against his bones. Arin sets him down on the couch.

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

Ross nods, sinking back into the couch, watching his hands tremble violently with faint curiosity. He doesn't realise that it’s been at least an hour before he hears the door open and turns his head slightly, catching sight of Dan out of the corner of his eye. _Oh… Oh no._ **_He’s here to tell you that you can’t do anything. He’ll tell you to get help but you won’t listen. You’ll let me live. You always do._**

He lingers in the doorway, running his hands through his hair, a nervous air about him. Ross can’t move. He wants to scream. He wants to grab Dan by the shoulders and hug him so tight that he pops. He wants to hold his hands and finally tell him. But he doesn’t. He just stays motionless on the couch, meeting Danny’s gaze, clutching his hands together so they hide the tremors.

“Hey…” Dan’s voice is quiet, so quiet that it’s barely above a whisper. “Arin called me. Told me that-” He takes a shaky breath. “Shit, man. I-I’m sorry.”

Ross shakes his head, his eyes lowering to his hands clasped in his lap. “It’s my fault,” His voice cracks on the words and somehow that causes Dan to move, walking forward and sitting next to him, his hand squeezing Ross’ shoulder. “No, it’s not, Ross.”

Ross stiffens at the contact, his mind humming. “Don’t touch me.” He says sharply, not looking up. Dan holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay.” He lets out a slow breath, his gaze on Ross’ face. “I just want you to know that it’s not too late…” Ross’ eyes flick up, roam across the wall to the window, staring out of it blankly. “I know…” He says reluctantly.

“So will you do it? Go to therapy?”

“Yeah… I’m just… Scared. Really fucking scared...Of myself.”

Danny’s hand instinctively finds his shoulder again and it’s no longer like a sting of pain, it’s a slow spread of warmth.

“Don’t be. You’ll get better and you won’t have to be scared anymore.”

 


End file.
